


Man's Man

by B7grrl



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Kink Bingo 2008, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 06:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13001781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B7grrl/pseuds/B7grrl
Summary: Jarvik is publicly humiliated, which is just as it should be.





	Man's Man

**Author's Note:**

> Kink: Humiliation (public)

Kelden's grin faded and her eyes narrowed as she looked over Tarrant's shoulder. "Jarvik," she said, slamming her cutlery down.  
  
Tarrant raised his eyebrows. "You have a problem with our esteemed captain?" He could guess what it was.  
  
"He isn’t esteemed by me. Or any of the women on this ship." Kelden picked up her fork and stabbed it viciously into her synthisteak. "It's not just the heavy-handed flirting--"  
  
"Sometimes literally," Soranov put in. "You have to give the bastard a wide berth, and don't ever let him get behind you."  
  
"--it's also the way he thinks we're fluffy little airheads who couldn't navigate or fire a plasma bolt to save ourselves Like the time he wouldn't believe me that I'd taken that pirate ship out? He thought it was you."  
  
"I put the record straight," Tarrant said. And he had. The wing of three pursuit ships was his first command and he was proud of the two female pilots who flew with him. They were fast, reliable, and he'd trained them himself so he was damned well going to look after them.  
  
"And he doesn't give up," Soranov muttered bitterly. "All that sneering innuendo and crap about finding out what a real man's like and he doesn't even use our names or ranks, just calls us 'woman' as if we're not real people, and..."  
  
Tarrant stopped listening. Was that 'real man' crack about him? He turned to look at Jarvik who had finished his meal and was getting up to leave. "Right." He stood up himself. "Time I had a bit of a chat with the captain." Superior officer or not, no one insulted the members of his wing. None of them.  
  
He moved to intersect. "Hello, captain." He put a hand to the wall and leaned on it, blocking Jarvik's way.  
  
"What do you want, Lieutenant?"  
  
"It's more about what you want, captain."  
  
Puzzlement covered Jarvik's face. "What?"  
  
"You're a real man's man, aren't you."  
  
The puzzlement was replaced by pride as Jarvik stood up straighter. "I am."  
  
"And you don't really like women."  
  
"Huh?" The befuddlement was back. "Course I do."  
  
"No," Tarrant continued patiently, "you don't. Not to talk to and be friends with."  
  
Jarvik stared at Tarrant. "Not what they're for, is it?"  
  
Tarrant shook his head in disgust at how anyone could write off half the human race not to mention the ship's complement. "You think they're inferior."  
  
"Yeah. What of it?"  
  
"Ah but that's my point." Tarrant stepped closer and lowered his voice (but not enough that the anyone in the now silent canteen could fail to hear him). "It's demeaning yourself to have sex--"  _or try to_  "--with those you regard as, well, beneath yourself,"  _and he probably only used the one position_  "when you could be consorting with your equals." Tarrant gave Jarvik a dazzling smile. "Like me." He put a finger on Jarvik's tunic and ran it down past his belt.  
  
"Bugger that," Jarvik growled.  
  
"Exactly!" Tarrant's grin widened as he noted the deformation of Jarvik's trousers, " _Big boy._ "  
  
Jarvik's hands shot down but he was too slow; there were sniggers from the spectators. Tarrant was interested to note that Jarvik's erection responded favourably to the amusement.  
  
"Aha! It appears that you get off on humiliation. And not just the that of the unfortunate females on board."  
  
"Sod you." Jarvik tried to push by, red with embarrassment and anger.  
  
"That's the general idea, yes." Tarrant stepped to block him. "See? You really like men, and you like people to know it too, don't you?"  
  
"No!" Jarvik threw a furious punch, but Tarrant was ready and dodged it and, while Jarvik was unbalanced, gave him a shove so he landed on the floor, his hands out to break his fall.  
  
Tarrant put his foot on Jarvik's bottom and pushed it to the deck. "Ooh! That must be so humiliating!"  
  
Jarvik gave a strangled cry of reluctant pleasure.  
  
"And it seems I'm right!" Tarrant began to pump his foot while Jarvik grunted helplessly in time, then climaxed to catcalls and hoots of laughter from the ship's company.  
  
Tarrant stepped back and turned to face the room, his arms spread, then bowed ironically. "It was nothing," he said, indicating Jarvik like the star being gracious to a fellow actor. "Nothing, I tell you."  
  
Jarvik stumbled to his feet, his back to the room. "I'll have you--"  
  
"Oh, I don't think so. And not up on a charge either if that's what you mean. After all," Tarrant smirked, "you'd need to explain what happened and call in witnesses."  
  
Jarvik put his head down and stumbled out to a riot of applause.  
  
"I don't think you'll have any trouble now," Tarrant boasted as he sat down to finish his spongy pud. "Though I wouldn't want to be the one swabbing that deck."  
  
  
  
Jarvik kicked his soiled clothes into the corned of his cabin and punched the bulkhead. He couldn't continue on this ship after that. He needed to find somewhere without females--they always made him feel so inadequate and slow--a place where he could be as manly as he wanted.  
  
He opened the comms and called the fleet commander. "Captain Jarvik here, sir. Immediate transfer requested."  
  
"Indeed? Where to?"  
  
"The Delta construction grades."  
  
No clever women and poofters there. He'd fit right in.


End file.
